


Flight

by oooknuk



Series: Held [4]
Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 22:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10750974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Running to stand still





	Flight

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognize will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: language, m/m, discussion and descriptions of psychological torture 
> 
> Note: My thanks to Linda G for assistance with this. This is the last in the 'Held' series and is a sequel to 'Release'.

Word of advice - if you like a quiet life, do not shoot someone. Even legally. Especially do not shoot them in a courthouse in front of TV cameras, while they are holding your gay lover hostage. Imagine the worst fucking over you've ever had in your life. Double it. That's what it's like.

The shit starts two seconds after Don's body hit the ground. One of the jury members starts to scream, and the courtroom is cleared of non-essential civilians by the judge's order. I sit with my hand on Ben's arm, more than happy for Welsh to take charge of yelling at people. Ben is shaking - hell, I'm shaking.

The clear up takes forever. I get asked some questions but people give up when then realize that I don't make much sense at the moment, and that there are plenty of other non-shocky people around who know what's going on. Finally Welsh kneels down beside us. "You two ok?" We both look at him as if that's a really dumb question, which it is. "Here's the deal. Pete'll take your car back to your apartment, collect some clothes for you both. The press will eat you alive if you go back. He'll pick up Diefenbaker and take him back to his house. You two can come with me. Fraser - your sister should be warned about this. Kowalski, I'm sending a uniformed officer to your Mom and Dad's, let them know you're okay and to handle any press attention that end."

He stands and pulls me up. I'm slightly surprised I can answer him. "Boss, we can't hide forever."

"I know that, Ray. But you need to give it some time to settle down. Maybe you should get out of town for a few days."

Ben stands and straightens up. "With respect, Lieutenant. No. My duty is to be at my post. We are in no danger, and I can put up with a little inconvenience."

Welsh rolls his eyes at me, and I have to agree with him. But at least we can have some peace tonight, and maybe tomorrow if we need it. "Sir, if Fraser's going back to work tomorrow, then I'll come in."

"You know the drill. You'll be on a desk until IA investigates this."

"Yes, sir. How are you going to get us out of here?"

We end up going out the service exit and dodge the reporters. Ben doesn't say anything on the ride back to Welsh's place. The cleanup wasn't that good and he's got specks of blood  - and other stuff - on his face, and his uniform is a wreck. He'll probably burn it - I'll insist on it if he doesn't. He's gone into himself and right now, for him the rest of the world doesn't exist. I don't much feel like talking either. I keep seeing the scene in the courthouse over and over. I'm still shaking and I hope we get to Welsh's house soon because I feel like I'm going to be sick. Reaction.  That's all it is.

Welsh offers Ben a shower and the loan of a robe and he accepts immediately. Welsh pours himself a Scotch and a big one for me without asking. He makes me sit on the sofa and won't hand me the drink until I do - he can see my hands. "You did good, Ray. You saved Fraser, and who knows who else."

"And he needed shooting anyway, right?" Even my voice is shaking.

Welsh knows I'm being sarcastic but doesn't bite. "It was a righteous killing, Ray. No question about it."

"You ever kill anyone?"

"I've shot three men dead in my career, Ray. Each one of them I regret, and if I could go back and do it over, I'd do exactly the same as what I did. I had no choice. Neither did you."

I take a big slug of the Scotch. It burns but I don't care. "This is so fucked up, lieu.  How the hell can I go back into the bull pen with this hanging over my head?"

"Kowalski, I saw you handle the Botrelle thing, you can handle this."

"Everyone didn't know I was gay then."

"So? You're not breaking regulations. You're a good officer - the best. You'll ride it out."

"And Fraser?" We look at each other. That's the $64,000 question. How will Fraser cope with this?

Welsh takes a long sip of his own drink. "I don't know, Ray. He's got you, he beat the addiction and what happened to him. He's a strong man."

Uh huh. A strong man who's been tormented by nightmares for the last week and who's been taking pills to sleep.

Ben comes out of the bathroom, hair wet and free of bits of my dead partner. "Lieutenant, I took the liberty of depositing my tunic in your trash. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all. Can I get you anything, Fraser?"

"One of  those might be useful," he says, pointing at my glass. Welsh looks at me in surprise, but gets a glass out without comment. I know better than to say anything. Ben is seriously fucked up here, and if Scotch is what he says he wants, then that's what he gets.

He sits next to me on the sofa, but doesn't look at me or speak to me. We got things to say to each other, but they'll have to wait until we're in private. "Ben, you better call Maggie."

"Yes. And the Inspector too. Sir, may I?" Welsh nods and tells him there's a phone in the kitchen he can use. He goes to make his calls.

"He looks rattled."

"Having a man's head explode in your face will do that, boss."

"That's enough, Ray," he says mildly.

"Sorry."

"I know what you're going through. In '85, I had to shoot a guy who was holding my partner pretty much like Don was holding Ben today. I couldn't miss - if I did, my partner would have been dead from my gun, not the perp's."

"That's not what's bothering me. I'm worried about Fraser."

"Give it time, Ray."

"I _have_ been giving it time, sir," I grit out. "For five goddamn months, and nearly four months before that. I'd just like to know when life is gonna get back to normal."

"Maybe never. You have to face that."

"Gee, thanks, boss." We sit in silence for a while, drinking our Scotch. He tops me up.

"About the investigation - you know you'll have to be cleared by the shrink again."

"That might be hard to do." He looks at me. "Okay, okay. I'll be positive. But what you're saying is that it'll be a couple of weeks before I'm on normal duty again."

"That's about the size of it."

"Great - like I haven't pulled enough desk duty this year." We both know why that is.

Ben comes out of the kitchen, face set in stone. "Problem?" I ask.

His answer is icy but polite. "The Inspector is strongly suggesting I take time off. I told him that I thought that wasn't necessary."

Figures. Greig's an oily bastard, and he'll want to move the shit from his own doorstep for as long as possible. "How's Maggie?"

"She's already had reporters calling her at work. Her sergeant is fielding calls, and the RCMP press office are apparently going to issue a statement if necessary. She tells me she can handle things."

He sits again and drinks from his whisky like he does it all the time. But his eyes are dead. Welsh speaks to him. "Fraser, if there's anything we - I  - can do, you know we will."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate it. But right now, I would just like to resume a normal existence."

You and me both, buddy. Welsh leaves us alone while he makes calls - he's got to update people and do boss stuff. I decide to just let it all wash over me. We're safe for tonight. Ben takes my hand now we're on our own. "Are you all right, Ray?"

"Just peachy, Ben. Why won't you take some time off - in two weeks, this will be old news."

He sets his jaw. "Because I have lost enough work time because of Don Arnulfson's obsession this year, and I refuse to lose any more. I am sick to death of being his victim."

"I can relate to that. You want some more of that?"

His glass is empty. "No. Thank you. It's helped sufficiently."

Welsh puts his head into the room. "Kowalski - it's your father. Pick up the phone in there."

"Dad?" I wonder why he's calling here ... oh fuck, my cell phone is turned off. He's probably been calling for hours.

"Ray - we've got reporters all around the trailer. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Uh, Dad, I didn't know I was gonna shoot the guy ...."

"Not that, Raymond. About you and Fraser - why did your mother and I have to hear that from a reporter, for God's sake?"

Oh shit. I'd forgotten about that. "I'm sorry. Is Mom upset?"

"What do you think?"

"Yeah, got that. Listen, Dad, you might want to think about going to stay with Brett for a week or two. I'll pay for the tickets."

"I think for the sake of our sanity, we may have to do that. But you and me are gonna have a talk when we get back."

"I know. Go ahead and book the flights, I'll send you the money."

"Okay, son, we'll do that. Ray - is Fraser all right?"

The question surprises me. "He's doing okay. It's a hell of a mess."

"I'm just glad you're safe. I'm glad you both are, for what it's worth."

"Thanks, Dad. Tell Mom I'm sorry."

"You can tell her that yourself, boy. "

"I'll call you tomorrow, Dad."

I hang up. "Mom and Dad know about us," I tell him.

Ben looks stunned. "Oh. I suppose that was inevitable."

"Just a little. Does it bother you?"

"Does it make any difference if it does?"

I shrug. No, it doesn't. Something else to deal with. "They're getting out of town."

"That seems wise." Yeah - so why aren't we doing it? I decide not to push. Maybe he's right - maybe the best thing is to get back to normality as quickly as possible.

Pete turns up after dark with our clothes, and tells us he managed to lose the reporters on his tail. Our apartment building is pretty much surrounded, so Welsh's idea was a good one. We order in pizza and eat - well, Pete and Welsh eat, Ben picks at his slice and I can't stomach looking at it.  You ever noticed how much like blood tomato paste looks? There's pretty much only one topic on our minds, so we don't even pretend to talk about anything. Pete and Welsh are adamant IA will clear me, and it's not that I've got any worries on that score, it's just going through the whole business on top of everything else that bugs me. Ben doesn't say much, and after he gives up playing with his food, sits staring into space.

Pete gets up and says he has to go home. He'll bring Dief down to the station tomorrow - we thank him and he goes. It's still early, and I know neither Ben or me can sleep yet, but we need some time on our own to talk. What I really want to do is work out some - Welsh suggests we use his gym and buy a temporary membership. For the first time since we got here, Ben looks interested. Welsh offers to give us a lift, but Ben wants to walk. We pack up the sweats Pete brought, and Welsh lends us towels and stuff and then we head out. From the second we're out of sight of Welsh's place, Ben starts to relax, but he's not saying much. We change at the gym. "Bag?" I ask. He nods.

Usually it's him holding, me swinging, but tonight, Ben wants to hit. Boy, does he want to hit - I can hardly hold the bag for him. Makes me glad that I didn't offer to spar. "You wish this was Don?" I ask him, and he stops and stares.

"No. I wish it was me." He start to punch the bag again, but I let it go which makes him stop.

"You're blaming yourself for this? That's fucked, Ben."

"Is it? Did I have to go to him like a bride to her bridegroom? If I hadn't put you in that situation, you wouldn't have had to shoot him. I know what that is doing to you." He looks mad enough to hit me.

"Fraser - he was gonna kill the lawyer. If it wasn't you, it was gonna be her. It was suicide by cop, you know that."

"Do I? Are you going to hold the bag again?"

He doesn't want to talk, so I hold the bag until he punches himself into exhaustion. "Stop it," I say finally, letting go. "Ben, give it a rest. You think this is helping?"

"I feel better."

"Well, I don't," I say and walk off. How can he believe that I only shot Don because of him? I head into the weights room to work off a little aggression of my own. After a couple of minutes, he comes in and spots me. I work out for a few minutes until I'm good and sweaty. "I'm gonna hit the shower."

He catches my arm. "Ray - I'm sorry. I know you did the right thing, I didn't mean to imply you didn't. The only person I am critical of is myself."

"Well, can it, Ben - if you think you did wrong, then I did wrong.  Don was controlling us just like he was before."

"I just wish things hadn't gone that way."

"And I don't? Ben, it'll drive us crazy if we keep wishing things were different. They're not."

He sighs. "I suppose you're right. In the scheme of things, it's not so very much to deal with."

"Damn straight."  We shower off, and he looks a little more cheerful. That's something, I guess.

Welsh offers us the spare bedroom - I wasn't sure if he was going to suggest one of us took the sofa, but I was glad he didn't because I really need to be in Ben's arms tonight.  Before he was taken by Don, Ben used to be the one who wrapped himself around me - he's a natural nurturer, I figure. But since he got back, it's usually me holding him, which is fine by me, I like doing that. Tonight, he takes hold of me and I lay my head on his chest. "Gotta get through this, Ben," I say as his hand plays in my hair.

"We will," he says. I wish I was so sure.

Welsh drops Ben off at the consulate - when we see the reporters staked out, he drives round to the service entrance. Fortunately, the precinct car park is restricted so we get inside okay, but the desk sergeant has a camera crew at the front desk which Welsh has to see off.  At least Ben works in an office on his own - I have to share with a room full of nosey, and some downright hostile cops. Welsh makes a statement to the effect that I have his full support and that he expects IA to clear me, and then I have to go meet them in person. There are two of them in the interview room - Carter and Johanssen, pricks I've come across before.  They start by getting me to describe what happened, and then they want to know about Ben.

"Corporal Fraser is your lover?"

"That's what I said under oath, isn't it?"

"So you were pretty angry with Arnulfson for holding him hostage, right?"

"Yeah."

"You could have just wounded him - you didn't have to blow his head off," Carter says in his greasy little way.

"He was pulling the trigger - the head shot was the only shot I could get!"

"Would you have killed him if he'd been holding anyone else?"

Maybe not if it was you, I think. "Yes, I would. I believed it was the only way to save Corporal Fraser's life, and if he'd been holding anyone else,  I would have done the same thing."

Carter makes some notes. "That'll be all, detective. We'll let you know the results of our investigation shortly. Until then, you'll remain on desk duty."

I resist the temptation to slam the door. Welsh calls me in when he sees me in the bull pen. I tell him how it went. "It's standard, Ray, you know that."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it, sir."

"No. I have to warn you, there's a bit of feeling against you and Fraser out there."

"Why?"

"Don was well-liked, Ray, you know that. I think we made a mistake by not coming clean about you and Fraser when he first went missing.  There's some talk that maybe Don wasn't as black as he was painted."

"Jesus, boss, he was a murderer and a kidnapper - you don't get blacker than that!"

"I know that, Kowalski. But people think you lied to them. You know what Don's lawyer said, and mud always sticks."

I throw my hands up in the air in disgust. How do you win against logic like that? "So what do I do?"

"Do what you always do - your job. This will go away."

I'm not sure.  I get plenty of evidence of what he's talking about - snide comments, off -color jokes. Keeping my temper is difficult. Pete makes a big thing of his support for me, which helps because he's popular. It's still a long day.

Close to quitting time, a reporter manages to weasel her way into the bullpen before being thrown out on her ear. I've had enough of this crap for one day, so I ring Ben at the consulate.

"How's things your end?" I ask him

"We're under siege."

"Ben - Welsh says we can stay with him again, but I want to go back to our place tonight. Can you handle it?"

Long pause. "I think so."

"I'll pick you up in half an hour."

Our landlady is waiting for us outside my door after we push past the reporters at the building entrance, and she tells me that the other tenants have been complaining about the harassment for the past two days. I tell her that things will calm down, and that's when she mentions the gay thing. I lose my temper and walk off. Ben takes over while I stand at the window, trying not to punch this old bitch. "Mrs. Petrucci, we pose no health threat whatsoever. You also know Ray has assisted many people in this building, as have I. Once this initial excitement dies off, I doubt people will mind our presence."

"You say that now, Mr. Fraser, but people got long memories. "

"I understand that, ma'am, but unless you are alleging that either I or Detective Kowalski are in breach of our lease, I'll have to request you to leave. We've had a long and trying day and we have things to do. " With that, he takes her by the arm - politely - and leads her to the door. She's out and the door's shut in three seconds.

"Wow. That's one for the books."

"It's ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, such blind prejudice. I'm sick and tired of it." He starts ripping his uniform off. I think about coming over to help, but the look on his face tells me not to.

"Tough day at work, huh?"

"Honestly, Ray, I don't like to speak ill of a fellow Mountie, but the Inspector is showing no spine at all. He actually, can you believe this, _actually_ suggested I transfer out to save the consulate difficulty."

If Greig's day had been anything like Welsh's, I don't blame the guy that much, but Ben is too mad to see his side of it.  "Is that an option?"

He stares at me. "You think I should run? After all I've been through, I should give up and run away because of bigots and reporters? I thought better of you, Ray."

He goes to the bathroom and slams the door. Well, fuck you very much, Fraser. He's carrying on like it was just him in this little mess. He might have been the one splattered with brains - but I'm the one who had to put the bullet into the guy's head. My _friend's_ head.  _Former_ friend's head.

I check the answering machine - reporters, reporters, Dad, reporters. I erase the tape and switch the ringer off on the phone. I get a beer and sit on the sofa to drink it. Dief comes over and put his head on my knee, looks at me with soulful eyes. I wonder how we're going to get out to walk him later on.

I hear Ben come out, go to the bedroom and get dressed, I presume, and then he's clattering in the kitchen. I ignore him. I've got enough to think about without listening to him in a snit. I'm luckier than him in one way - at least my boss and my partner are supporting me.  My fellow detectives are the biggest problem, if we can keep the landlady from evicting us. I'm not the only gay officer there, but I'm the one who's made the biggest splash. I don't know if I want to be the poster boy for bisexual detectives.

Ben comes and sits down opposite me, holding a mug of tea. "You calmed down yet?" I ask him.

"A tad. I'm sorry."  I wave my hand to say it's nothing. With all the other hurt flying around, what's an insult between friends. Besides, we're both tired. Neither of us got much sleep at Welsh's, Ben had some awful nightmares. So did I. Three o'clock in the morning, I had a major shivering fit and Ben had to hold me for nearly an hour before I could get back to sleep.

"Ray - you should call your parents again as you promised."

"Later, Ben. It has to stand in line with all the other things I gotta deal with right now. Killing my partner is ahead of it."

Ben's face sort of ... collapses, and he stands up. I reach out for him but he brushes me off. "Ben...."

"Leave it, Ray."

"What did I say?" I really don't know but by the look on his face, he's about to tell me.

"Your _partner,_ Ray?" he says tightly. "My friend, Ray? Who was he? What was he? I can hardly believe what he did  to me, to us. Sometimes I think I dreamt it, then I look at my arms and I know I didn't. Don't tell me you feel guilty over killing him. I'm just sorry I couldn't pull the trigger myself."

He goes to the bedroom, and for the second time tonight, he slams the door. Another record.

Do I feel guilty? Hell no. But it's freaking me out anyway - Don's the first person I ever killed intentionally (dead spies with cyanide capsules don't fucking count). He knew that too. I saw it in his eyes, the second before I shot him. He was saying, "You'll remember this." And I do, and I will. Seeing his head splatter, seeing him fall to the ground on top of Ben. Fuck. I'm shaking just thinking about this. I realize Ben doesn't remember this bit. He thinks it's all about him.  I can't talk to him now. He's mad, I'm nuts.

I have a shower and dress in my robe - I don't want to go into the bedroom to get clean clothes while Ben's sulking.  Dief sits next to me on the sofa to watch TV. I don't bother with food, just another beer, and the alcohol and being whacked send me off in half an hour. I wake up because I'm being shaken. "Ray, come to bed."

I've slumped sideways and my neck hurts like hell. Ben's kneeling next to me. "You still mad at me?" I ask him.

"No. Just at myself. Come on." He gives me a hand to stand up, and a kiss once I'm upright. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"Save it, Fraser. I'm sick of you apologizing, and I'm sick of there being things to be sorry about."

Don's winning, I think. We've argued more in the past two days than we did in the past two years. I can't let him break us up. I can't. It'd kill me as surely as my bullet killed Don.

Things don't get any easier. We both get abusive letters from moral majority campaigners, and  'support' from gay rights groups which neither of us want. IA clears me, which is one thing at least, but I still hear the odd whisper or two that maybe the wrong cop got shot. My landlady is damn cold with me whenever I see her, which is rich considering how many times I've been in her apartment fixing her plumbing or her TV, but at  least she's not talking about us leaving any more. The reporters move on in a couple of days, and then Mom and Dad can fly home. Then we have an uncomfortable family dinner, just the three of us, no one saying what they really think but everyone being polite and pretending that I'm a big boy now and I can make my own mistakes. Ben doesn't say much about work - I gather Greig isn't being particularly supportive, but Ben is grinning and bearing it for all I can tell.

Three weeks pass and I begin to think we're coming through it. Ben's still quiet at home, and I think maybe he should go and see his shrink again. He'd stopped going about a month before Don's trial and we thought he was doing good, but now he's like what he was after we got him out of Don's little hell hole.  The trouble is, I don't think I can help him this time - there's too much shit in my own head.

Then I get a call from Inspector Greig telling me to get down to the consulate to take Ben home. The bastard won't tell me what's going on over the phone. When I get there, Greig is waiting in the corridor, tight-lipped. "What's happening?"

"The corporal is in there. The door's locked."

"You don't have a key?"

"Of course, but ...."

"Well, get me the goddamn key!" Greig scurries off.  How the hell did he get to be Inspector? I listen at the door. I can't hear Ben - just some soft noises I can't quite work out. He comes back with the key. "What happened?"

"We heard things being thrown around and the Corporal shouting, and then we found the door was locked."

"You didn't think he might be in danger?"

"That seemed unlikely," he said stiffly, and I cursed him in my head for being such a fucking wuss. I tell him to clear off, I'll handle things.

I unlock the door. "Ben?" The place looks like a hurricane has gone through it - papers everywhere, the chair upturned. I can't even see him at first, but then I hear him breathing hard. He's wedged in the corner, between the filing cabinet and the wall, and trembling. "Jesus, Ben. What happened?" I pull him into my arms. His face is wet, and pale, and he can't even talk - looks like a panic attack or something. All I can do is hold him until he quietens down, which he does in a few minutes. I pull out my not very clean handkerchief and give it to him. He blows his nose, and lets me hold him some more. "Want to tell me now?"

He's still breathing in big sobbing breaths, and he's a little hard to understand. "Letter ... from a TV show...."

"The _Oprah_ thing?" I'd got that too, asking if we wanted to be on a show about gay cops in love with other cops. I threw it in the trash.

"I want my life back ... don't want people knowing all about me, Ray." Well, of course. Ben's one of the most private people I know, and having his personal life plastered across newspapers and TV was hard to handle. I guess this was the last straw. "Thought ... thought it was over, then this ... I'm sorry." He buries his face on his knees, wraps his arms around them like he's trying to disappear. I guess he's embarrassed as much as anything.

"It's okay, Ben. Why don't you come home? You can sort this out tomorrow."

"The Inspector ...."

"Fuck the Inspector. I'll handle him." I pull Ben upright. I help him straighten up his uniform, and he insists on picking up some of the mess and putting the chair back in place. It's not too bad, it looks like he just picked up his in-tray and threw it. As temper tantrums go, it's not a biggie. "There - all good."

"I'm an idiot," he mutters.

"Yeah, but you're my idiot. Come on home."

I call Welsh on my mobile and tell him I need the rest of the day off. I give him the picture as briefly as I can and he gets it, tells me to take as much time as I need.  Ben's pretty subdued on the way back - I think he's ashamed of his meltdown, but to me,  I'm just surprised it hadn't happened before now.

He heads to the bathroom as soon as we get in, and I put a pair of jeans and a shirt for him to change into. When he comes out, he's washed his face but he's still unhappy. I've made him some tea and he sits to drink it, not looking at me. "Ben, it's okay.  I'll explain to the Inspector - it's nothing major ...."

"I have to leave."

"Over this? You're kidding - the most you'll get is a slap ...."

"No, I have to leave Chicago. I can't do this any more, Ray. I hate it here now. I hate my job, I hate the city, I'm sick of everyone knowing everything I do. I want to go home." He looks like he's close to crying.

His words make me feel icy inside. "This is your home, Ben."

"It's where I live, it's not my home."

"Home is where you are," I say in a choked voice, my chest feeling tight.

He puts his cup down, and takes my hand. "Ray, you know I love you. But I'm dying here. I have to go back to Canada."

"So we'll both go..." He's shaking his head. "You don't want me to come?"

"I have to be by myself for a while."

"Fuck it, Ben! You had four goddamn months on your own, wasn't that enough?" I yell at him.

"Obviously not," he says in a tight voice. "Ray, you have to let me go."

"For how long - a week, a month - forever? Why, Ben? We got through it before together."

"Yes we did - and we didn't, since I've still got problems."

"So see the shrink again."

"I do _not_ want to see the psychiatrist again, Ray. I told you - I am tired of exposing my underbelly to people. I'm tired of being a victim - of, of being a freak for daytime television to paw over. I'm not talking about forever, but I don't know how long."

"Why can't I come with you?" I just don't understand.

He takes my hand again. I'm shaking - this is just about my worst fear come to life. "I can't really explain it - I need to be alone. I want to be in control of my life for a while. When I get that back, then I can come to you."

None of this makes any sense to me. "Why don't you give it some time, Ben? You're just upset about today ..."

"I've been thinking about this for a while, Ray. Ever since Don ..." Ever since Don fucked us over _again,_ I think.

We argue it over most of the day, until I can't handle it any more and take Dief on a two hour walk. Ben can try to explain it forever, but all I'm hearing is that he can't stand being where I am. I'd move to Canada in a heart beat - we talked about it when we first got together, but he decided that his promotion prospects were better at the Consulate. Of course, that was before he actually got promoted and he had to stop being my partner, and before he spent most of the time staring at paperwork, but he never complained. Not as such, anyway.

He's made supper when I get back - lasagna, to one of Ma Vecchio's recipes, my favorite, and I can tell he's trying to say sorry. But he hasn't changed his mind.  "I called Eric - he said I can come any time, and he'll help me set up the cabin."

"Ben, what the hell am I supposed to do while you're gone?"

He stops stirring the sauce and comes and holds me. "Ray, it's not forever, I promise you. And it's not like it was when Don was keeping me prisoner - you'll know where I am, and you can contact me through Eric anytime you want. I wouldn't ask this if it weren't important."

Damn him. He takes me over to the sofa and kisses me gently, which just makes it worse because I know how much I'll miss those kisses, and his touch, and all of him.  "You don't know what it was like for me when you were gone."

"I'm not trying to be cruel, God knows I never want to hurt you, but Ray, there's a pain in my heart like a clenched fist," he holds his fist up to his chest to show me. "It never goes away, and I don't know what else to do. The only time I felt completely free was back home, and I need it."

"I can call you?" I ask, hating the pathetic sound of my voice.

"You can call Eric, and I'll write. Give me a months, two at most. If I don't come back by then, you can come get me. Deal?"

I don't want to agree, but when Ben looks at me with those baby blues, I can never turn him down. Suck it up, Kowalski. He needs this, and you can handle it. Finally I nod, and he hugs me again. "I'm sorry, Ray."

"You and me both."

He makes gentle, sweet love to me that night, another apology, and in the darkness after he falls asleep, I cry a few silent tears. This is all so fucked up.

He makes his arrangements. Greig agrees to his request for a leave of absence real quick, the gutless bastard, and Ben can leave by the end of the week. He arranges finances so I don't lose out on the rent side, even though that's the last thing I care about, and gets a flight to Eric's hometown on Saturday. He's taking Dief, naturally, but that just makes things harder for me. I know if I begged hard enough, he'd stay, but then where would that leave me? With a lover eating his heart out, and then that would kill us anyway. I'm stronger than he is at the moment, so I guess I'm the one who has to put up with it.

He ships Dief on ahead, and doesn't ask me to drive him to the airport, knowing that would hurt. He gives me a last, long kiss at the door. "Two months, Ray. Maximum," he promises.

"Sure, " I say. "It'll go in no time." Like hell it will.

He cups my face, stroking it, and then he goes. I don't watch the taxi go. I'm not that much of a masochist.

 

* * *

I've asked Welsh for weekend work as often as possible, and he understands. Pete and him are kind, both having me over for dinner once or twice a week. When I told Pete what Ben wanted to do, he didn't think much of the idea. "I don't know him that well, Ray, but I don't think being away from you for so long is very smart."

"You don't think I told him that?"

One good thing - Pete and me become even better friends. I got over distrusting him because of what Don did, and once I let down that barrier, I realized just how lucky I was to have him as my partner, and just how nice he and his family are. Makes me jealous, in a way, seeing him with his wife and kid, knowing that I gave that all up to be with Ben - but then, mostly, being with Ben is such a blast I don't mind. It's only when he's not there, that I think what else I could have in my life - and what I don't have if he never comes back.

I resist calling Eric for the first two weeks, but when I do, he just says he saw Ben a couple of days before, and that he's settling into the cabin fine. A week later I get a short note from Ben telling me the same thing, a little bit about Dief and nothing else - since he sent it with Eric to be mailed, there's no new news.  Then nothing.  Pete and Welsh stop asking me if I've heard from Fraser, they know I'd tell them, and they know they just make me feel worse. Finally I have to tell them to stop being so nice to me. "Guys, it's not like he's dead. He's just over the border, and he says he's coming back."

Pete just looks at me  pityingly, and invites me to dinner again. Oh well, his wife's a great cook, and I don't actually much like my own company at the moment.

It's coming up for six weeks and all I've had is that one note. I plan on kicking some Mountie ass when I see him again for doing this to me, but I'm worried as well as mad. Three weeks before Christmas, Eric calls me. "Ray, you need to come up here."

"What's wrong?"

"He's not in trouble, but you need to come."

Welsh grouses about the short notice, with it being the holidays and all, but he's knows I've paid my dues and more importantly, while I'm worrying about Ben, I'll be a waste of everyone's time.  I get a flight in two days, and a day later, I'm being picked up by Eric.  "You want to tell what the hell is going on?" I say, not bothering to be polite.

"Ben's not doing so good. I saw him the day before I called you. I offered to get you, he said no. But he needs you, Ray, that's all I know"

I curse Eric and Ben and damn Canucks generally.  Ben's father's cabin is about half a mile from the road to Eric's village so he drops me there on his skidoo, says he doesn't think it would be a good idea for him to turn up with me but that he'll drop by with supplies tomorrow. I trudge through the snow on snow shoes, wishing I was fitter than I am and hoping I make the cabin before the daylight goes. Dief spots me and knocks me down. "Hey, furball, you missed me, huh?" fighting him off and struggling to my feet.

Dief's boss is coming out from behind the cabin, all rigged out in his winter gear. "Damn that Eric," he says, then I'm being taken into a big Canadian hug, and kissed and licked, I think.  I guess that tells me he did miss me after all. His eyes are bright but he's got a godawful beard. I tug on it and he winces and grins - it's gotta go.

He lets go of me. "Eric called you?"

"Yep. You mad?"

"Hmmm. A little. Not at you. Come in."

I follow him into the cabin and take my coat off. Now he's taken his off too, I can see why Eric might be worried. "Ben, you've lost weight."

"Mmmm," he says, not really answering. He puts water on to boil. "I've only got tea, do you mind?"

"I'll survive. So, how's it been?"

"Fine." Oh yeah? "A little lonely, perhaps."

"How lonely?"

He turns and glares at me. "A lot - satisfied?"

I grin at him. "That's more like it. So the big experiment was a big mistake?"

"No. Yes. In one respect. I needed you."

I stand up. "Pete said he thought this was a bad idea."

"Oh, did he?" Ben says, burying his face in my neck - I think he's smelling me. His beard is scratchy.

"Do you feel better at all?"

"Yes - some. Apart from missing you. I was right - I did need to get away. How long are you here for?"

"A month. But I'm not leaving without you, get it?"

He smiles. "Understood." He starts to unzip my jacket and run his hands inside my shirts. "Ray ...."

"Before coffee?" It's a joke with us - he can never get me to have sex in the morning until I get that one cup of java inside me. I think I'm good to go here, though. Six weeks without him - I couldn't even jerk off, every time I thought about him, I felt so lonely and miserable, my dick just went completely limp.

His hands have a life of their own, and my engine's getting revved up for sure. Just one thing .... "Ben - the beard."

"Oh." He strokes it. "Give me ten minutes - you can make the tea." He gives me an evil smirk to let me know that tea isn't what's on his mind, but actually, I think I could do with a nice hot drink inside me, followed by a nice hot Mountie ... you get my drift, right?

The cabin's got a bit fancier since I was last up here - Ben and me added a few things here and there, and Eric's been letting it out as a hunting lodge for Ben, using the money to do it up. Ben lets Eric use it when he doesn't need it, and Eric thinks like me - bathrooms belong inside, and the heating has to actually heat the damn place.  I bet Ben's been messing about with it too, he had to be doing something while he's been up here.

I don't bother making a cup of tea for Ben, he's going to be using his mouth for other things if I have my way, but I make a mug for myself and wander into the bathroom. He's stripped to the waist, and yep, he has lost weight. Looks fit though, and the tracklines on his arm are fading. I'm not too thrilled by the dark circles under his eyes, or the fine lines around them which tell me he's tired and a little stressed.  I stand behind him with my chin on his shoulder and he smiles at me in the mirror, his face covered in soap with that murderous razor of his just about to attack the undergrowth. I hold him around the waist and sip my tea while he shaves in typical efficient Mountie fashion - I'd never let him touch me with that thing but he'd been using it for twenty five years or so. "You should see your eyes, Ray. They get _sooo_ big when I do this," he teases,  showing me by damn near slicing his neck off.

"You should feel your dick, Benton Fraser. It gets sooo big when _I_ do this." I circle one of his nipples with my finger, making it perk up, and I put my hand on his crotch. Yeah - bingo. Something else perked up.

He butts me with his backside. "Ray, do you want me to finish this or do you want to play?''

"Both." But I behave myself and finish my tea, just winking at him now and then to distract him. Finally he's done. He wipes his face carefully, then takes my cup off me.

"Do I have permission to proceed?"

I rub my fingers over his smooth jaw. "I think that's better. You look like you again." His smile dims a little bit, and I know he's thinking back to when I shaved him in the hospital, just after he was freed. "Ben - why didn't you write?" Something else to clear up before I go to bed with him.

"I'm sorry. I knew you'd be angry with me, and rightly so. I ... I just missed you so much," he whispers, "but I had to go through with this. I felt like I was losing my soul in Chicago, and I wanted to be alone to heal."

"Did you?" All the playfulness is gone - his face is sad and worried, and I feel tense too. What if he still won't come back?

He lets go of me, and pulls his long johns and his shirts back over himself, puts his sweater back on. Looks like it's talking, not fucking, for now.  "I think I'd like some tea - do you want some more?"

Not really, but it will give my hands something to do. He stands in the kitchen watching the kettle boil up again, and I can see now why Eric was so worried. He looks as unhappy as he did when he left town two months ago. "You didn't tell me everything about why you wouldn't let me come with you, did you?" I ask, guessing. He shakes his head slowly. "So what? Ben - we've been through everything else, what was so terrible?"

"I can't tell you, Ray - it won't help things and it will only hurt you."

"You mean you running away up here and leaving me for weeks didn't?" He flinches. "I'm sorry, Fraser - but that's the truth. Every time you decide things on your own and you don't include me, I get hurt. " I don't know if I'm mad or I'm worried, but I do now that we lost a year of our lives to this, and if we don't get on top of it now, we'll be finished.  "Tell me why I couldn't come with you."

"Ray - I'm telling you, you'll be angry, you may even hate me."

"I might get mad, Ben, but I couldn't hate you if I tried. I could cut my arm off before I could do that."

He stares at me, sizing things up.  "You know I was having nightmares?"

"Yeah. So?"

"Not all the dreams ... Ray, they weren't all nightmares. Some were worse than that." He's speaking real quiet, real calm, and he's scaring the hell out of me. Worse than a nightmare? How can that work? He's got a tight grip on his mug and he won't look at me. "Sometimes - more than sometimes, Ray - I've been dreaming that Don was my friend. And that when you killed him, I wept for him. I dream that I miss him."

Oh. Sweet. Jesus. That is ... now I know what he meant. Hold on to your temper, Kowalski. "And when you wake up?"

"I feel sick. I feel like - like I've been raped, almost. That my mind is betraying me." He looks at me then, and no way can I be angry. He's scared, scared I'll leave, scared he's going crazy.

"Did you tell the doctor about the dreams?"

"He just said it was normal after what I'd been through, and eventually I could expect them to go. But they haven't. And I knew if I told you ... you'd think I was betraying you." His voice dies away to almost nothing as he says that, and he looks at his mug again.

Fuck. This is more than I was expecting. A lot more. I've been dreaming about Don too, but just about killing him - going over and over it in my mind. At least I still know the man was a crazy twisted fuck who deserved to die. "I don't blame you, Ben. I don't understand it either, but I don't think you believe Don was your friend. I mean, you don't, right?"

"I wanted to kill him," he says in a quiet, flat voice.  "I want him to be here so I can kill him myself. I frighten myself sometimes how much I hate him. Sometimes I even almost hate you for depriving me of the chance, not," as he sees me about to speak, "that I think you had any choice to do what you did. But that makes these dreams worse. And when that letter arrived from _Oprah,_ I ... I suppose I thought everyone believed that Don and I were the ones in love. For a moment, I forgot it was you and I, and then I hated I could be made to forget that or that anyone could presume to know our relationship."

I can see him trembling but I'm scared to touch him. Scared to say anything. Shit - after all this time, he's as screwed up as ever. "Are you angry with me, Ray?"

"No. Ben - you need to talk to the shrink again."

"No!" He startles me and I drop my empty mug which fortunately doesn't break. "I'm sorry." He picks it up while I count up in my head how many times he's apologized to me since I walked in the door. I realize I haven't even sat down yet - I've been here less than half an hour and it feels like a whole day. I go over to his old armchair by the stove and sit down. He comes and sits on the floor next to it and puts his head on my leg so I can pet his hair.  I'm confused, and a confused Kowalski doesn't think too good.

"What does Eric say?"

"I haven't told Eric."

Right. So the only people who know about this are his doctor, who he won't talk to, and me, who can't do anything. "He might be able to help. You said he was smart."

"He'll think it's as perverted as I do. And I told you, I'm tired of people knowing my secrets."

And I'm tired of Ben hurting so bad over something that isn't his fault, and me not being able to do thing one about it. I think I need to have a word with Eric tomorrow, but at the moment there's only one thing I can do for him and that's take his mind off it, which I hope will help us both. I slip down off the armchair until I'm practically in his lap, and he shifts to let me wedge up between him and the chair. I take his head in my hands and kiss him gently, give his nice smooth cheek a lick or two. Oh man, I miss this. "I don't make you sick?" he murmurs.

"Hmmm. Love sick maybe - is being horny a disease?" He grins against my face, and I can feel his hands undoing my shirts buttons. He's always had a thing about running his hand over my chest, I don't know why - me, I'm an ass man, men or women, and he has one of the best butts I've ever seen. Only, he's sitting on it. I push him back and then over on his side on the rug, knowing it will be clean like everything else in the cabin.

"There's a perfectly adequate double bed in the other room, Ray," he says, but his hands are still busy and he doesn't let my lips free for a second more than he needs to talk.

"I know, I helped you build it, and are you complaining already?" This is good - now I got nice handfuls of Mountie ass, even if it is through flannel lined jeans and long johns underneath. I can do this for hours, making out with him - he's a great kisser and with us being the same height and practically the same weight, we can press everything together just fine holding each other like this. He's got one hand inside my shirt and he's playing with my nipple, making me shiver. Bastard. He knows I can't resist that, any more than he can resist me doing ... "God, Ray," he groans, and I grin.

I got just one problem and that not having enough hands - I want to be playing with his dick and his ass and his chest and his hair all at the same time. I can tell he's got the same problem. Too many clothes, that's another one. He lets go of my nipple long enough to undo my fly and burrow through the layers of material to find his objective. "Oh, shit, Ben," I say throatily as his hand closes around me. He's not giving me enough space of return the favor - he's a man on a mission from God, and nothing is going to stand between him and making me come like a geyser. But then he shifts down and it's his clever mouth on me, nearly making me  scream. All I can do is hang on for the ride, clutching his longish, silky hair until I'm sure I'm leaving bald patches. It's been too long, and he's too good at this, and I come and come like a fucking fifteen year old on his first real date.  He slides back up me, his hand back on my dick all protective and warm, a smug look on his handsome face. "You came too," I say accusingly, and he looks a little embarrassed. "Damn you, Ben," I say as I punch him in the chest lightly. "I've been promising myself twelve rounds with your little corporal for six weeks and you're still off on your own."

"I'm sorry, I really am. It's just hearing you, and tasting you ... you're the sexiest thing I've ever known." I leave aside the fact that he isn't the world's most experienced person in that way, and just accept the compliment, and the kisses that go with it. He sits up with his back against the armchair and pulls me up to rest on his chest. The only light in the room is from the stove, flickering through the grate. We sit together quietly, his arms around me, feeling at peace. It's an illusion, but one we both enjoy for what it is.

Dief comes and lays his head on my lap. I missed him nearly as much as his master. I'm tired of my family being torn apart by this, and I don't care if Ben comes back or not, I'm staying with him. He's not ever going to drive me away again - I don't give a damn what excuse he gives me, and now I'm mad as hell  with myself that I let him do it the first time. It did him no good at all, I can see that now. Just two months out of our lives like nearly four months before. A waste of goddamn time.

"A penny for them?" he says gently, stroking my face.

"Just wondering if you're going to come back with me."

He sighs deeply - I can feel it all the way down in his belly. "Yes. I promised you."

Not an overwhelming vote in favor of the Windy City - or me. "Will you be happy?"

Another deep sigh. "I don't know," he says softly. "I'm beginning to wonder if that's beyond my reach."

Damn. "Will you at least let me try and help?"

He strokes my face again, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Of course, Ray. How can I be happy without you?"

We sit for a little longer until Dief whines and makes 'feed me' noises. I stretch - my stomach's telling me it's been too long between meals too. "What's for supper?"

"Blubber, with extra lichen."

"Bring it on, I could eat a walrus."

That earns me a long lecture on the edibility of walruses which I listen to with a sappy grin on my face, as Ben chops and dices the vegetables for the blubber free stew he's making for dinner. Looking at him here, I can understand in a way why he needs to be back. This is where he really is _home_   for all that he never lived here for more than a couple of months at a time. "Ben?"

"Mmmm?"

He's deeply into carrot mode, and not looking at me. "Is there any reason we can't move to Canada now?"

Now he looks at me. "Are you suggesting this for my sake?"

"Is there something wrong with that?"

He looks back at the murdered carrot and dumps it into the pot, puts the knife down and rests both hands on the counter. "I know we talked about it, but Ray - would you be happy up here? Really? The loneliness and the cold, it's not for everyone."

"I'm here, aren't I? Look - Ben, I've loved all the time I've spent in Canada, and I figure, you're dying on your feet back in Chicago. You said yourself you hate your job. So let's make the move."

"It's running away," he mutters, more to the stew than to me.

"So what? Fraser - you gave it your best shot, but there's no getting away from Don or what happened back there. You reckon doctors can't help, so this is the only thing we got left to try. I know you don't like giving up, but sometimes you have to cut bait and go."

"Let me think about it."

I walk around the counter and take him into my arms, letting him feel my love and need for him. "You don't have to be 100% better. You just need to get to the point where surviving feels better than the alternative."

He smiles against my cheek. "You always were the brains of this relationship, Ray Kowalski."

The stew takes a while to cook. "I'll need to buy some more things in." he says, looking at his stores.

"Uh, it's taken care of. Eric's made up an order and he'll bring it over tomorrow."

He gives me a sharp look. "Keeping out of the line of fire, was he?"

"He did ask me to make sure you weren't packing tomorrow, yeah."

"Interfering man," he mutters, but I don't think he's half as pissed off as he makes out.

We eat sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the stove, leaning on each other, the way we did the first month or so when we got together. It feels a little bit like a honeymoon, and I for one am perfectly happy to forget about nightmares and Don and Chicago and the whole fucking deal. I've had a lot of time off this year but not a minute's peace, it feels like - just a day snatched here and there with Ben when he got back, but the whole time I was worrying about him so it wasn't the most restful experience. At least now he's in good health, relatively sane and back where he's most at home. And Eric's coming by tomorrow so I'm not on my own.

Without speaking, it's agreed that tonight is one for an early tuck in. As soon as Ben's made a last check on things, and stoked up the stove, we're under the covers of the big double bed which, yes, I, Ray Kowalski, actually cut down the trees for and dressed the wood, even if it was Ben who did the twiddly carving things on the bedhead that make it look so good. "I've missed this bed - why don't we have one this comfortable back in Chicago?"

"I suppose it's because neither of us thought we'd be there that long," he answers honestly. He's got a point. I guess we always knew Canada was where Ben would end up, and whither he goest and all that shit.

"You think I can immigrate now?"

"I think so - I think I might be able to call in a favor or two to grease the wheels." He's definitely learning.

Our little foreplay on the rug this afternoon should've taken the edge of my need for him, but all it did was stoke up the fires for both of us, and he's kissing me as urgently and as hard as I am him. We didn't bother putting long johns on - we knew they were coming off again soon - and the feel of his long hot body against mine is pure and utter bliss. "Ray ..."

"Don't talk, Ben," I mutter, trying to decide how I want him this time around.

"I just want to know if you brought anything with you."

"On the nightstand."

"Oh." Damn Mountie - he's not the only one who believes in proper preparation. We have a brief tussle over who does who, and I win, like I always do, because Ben's a natural top, and I love his big dick inside me. I love my dick in him too, but when I'm really hungry for it, only Canadian bacon does it for me.

He puts the condom on automatically - we used to out of sheer force of training, and Ben says it cuts down sensation enough to make things last, which is perfectly fine in my book. Sensation - now that's what we're dealing with here, with his slicked up fingers finding their  home, and making me jerk all over the place with pleasure. He's a fucking tease, my Mountie, and I'm never completely sure he's going to get as far as putting his dick in me - sometimes, he just keeps using his fingers until I'm begging for release, then he reaches over and takes me and makes me come. It always pisses me off, even though I love it. He's not messing about tonight, thank goodness. As soon as he thinks I'm ready, he's straight in. Oh yeah, he's hungry for me too - he needs this connection between us that only making love this particular way gives. Me, I could get off on watching his face, but what's happening between my legs is nothing to be sneezed at. My dick is getting with the program a few beats behind the main action as usual. I go to put my hand on it, but he's there already. "I need ...." he grunts out, and I let him. Okay, he wants to drive me crazy all on his own, who am I to argue?

Oh God - he can hit the perfect rhythm and the sweet spot so quick - and I'm groaning with pleasure, wanting to come but wanting it to last, the best kind of problem to have. He wrings an orgasm out of me and then he calls my name as my muscles force him to come, thrusting until the last drop is pulled out of him. He collapses on me, right in the mess, not that he ever minds. I can't quite reach his face, so I kiss the top of his head.

"You see what you were depriving me of, Benton Fraser?" I say, tugging his hair a little.

"And me, Ray.  I suffered too."

"Self-inflicted."

He pulls out, and takes the johnnie off. "I'll be back in a minute." I lie and wait for him, completely sated. I thought I'd be able to take him on again but no, I'm pooped. He's back in thirty seconds with a washcloth, and cleans me off delicately, like I'm made of porcelain. I take the cloth and throw it into the corner - he knows me well enough by now not to bitch. He crawls under the covers with me, and I can see he's as tired as I am.

"You're not sleeping too good, are you?" I say, stroking his face. His eyes are already closed.

"Not as well as I expect to tonight, no."

"You are such a moron sometimes, Ben."

"Understood," he says sleepily.

 

* * *

Whether it's me being back, or making love, or just luck, he sleeps like a baby in my arms all night, which sounds romantic unless it's your arms which are also sound asleep when you wake up. The clock says it's eight, which is way overdue for a certain Mountie to be greeting the day - but it suits me just fine. He sleeps for another hour after I wake up, and it's only because I really need a pee, and I'm also not totally sure what time Eric's coming that I finally have to nudge him off me. He just rolls off, doesn't even wake up. I use the can, and have a quick wash. One of us has to be up and awake if we have visitors. I've got water on for tea and oatmeal when he stumbles out in his long johns, looking sleepy and rumpled and edible. "Why are you up?" he asks.

"That's my line," I tease him. He's still dozy - man, he must be catching up for some lost winks. He uses the bathroom and goes back to the bedroom to change. He's more awake by the time I've made breakfast and tea, and put down kibble for Dief.

"You slept good?"

He stretches and yawns. "I think that was honestly the best night's sleep I've had in weeks."

I shake my head at the stupidity of the man. Why the hell did he wait all this time before admitting he needed me - in fact, he didn't even do it then, it was Eric who cried uncle. "What's the plan for the day?" I ask him.

"Well, apart from Eric's visit, not a lot. He's kept the place in remarkable shape, and I have no repairs that need doing. There isn't enough daylight to embark on major construction, and as I'm not running a sled, I don't even have to worry about the dogs."

"So what have you been doing up here?"

"Reading. Thinking. Missing you."

"Wasting time."

"That too. What time is Eric coming?"

"Dunno. Soon I hope - he's bringing the coffee."

In fact we hear Eric's skidoo just after dawn breaks around eleven. I tell Fraser to wait inside, and I go out onto the porch to meet him. "Is he mad?" Eric asks without no preliminaries.

"He'll get over it. I'll hold him down if he gets fractious."  I help him unload the packages and take them inside. I ordered enough for Christmas - Eric already invited us to his house, but I figured Ben wouldn't agree. I think I was right about that. Ben glares at our visitor, not quite ready to let Eric off the hook even though the guy was totally right about Ben needing me up here.

"Eric," he says, just barely polite.

"Ben." Eric can stare down even the old Fraser glare, and I try not to grin watching these two old bears going at each other.

"You called Ray," Ben finally says.

"Yup. You want I should take him back with me?"

I keep quiet. Ben goes red, and then he grins. "Okay, you win. I don't appreciate the interference, but perhaps you were right."

Eric grunts. "I'm always right, Mountie. Time you figured it out."

Lunch is more of last night's stew, now even better for sitting over night, some fresh bread that Eric's brought and some decent coffee. Eric wants to know what our plans are - he was never one for small talk. "We're thinking of moving up here," I tell him. He looks at me, and then at Ben.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Answer the question, Yank," he says bluntly. I remind myself that he's one of Ben's oldest friends and therefore not to be kicked in the head on a first offense.

"Because Ben's not getting any better down in Chicago."

"Hmmph. So you think running away will solve the problem?"

Ben bangs his cup down, gets up and walks out of the room onto the porch, slamming the door. "Well, thank you so much, Eric. I'd just about convinced him that it wasn't running away," I say angrily. He just shrugs and keeps on spooning stew into his mouth.

I wonder if I should go and get Ben, but he answers that by slamming back into the room with a gust of cold snowy air at his heels. "Where the _hell,_ " he shouts at Eric, "do you get off judging me and Ray over this? Do you have the faintest idea what this year has been like? For me? For him? You interfere, you drag Ray away from his home, you disregard my explicit wishes and now you tell me I'm a coward?" He's right in Eric's face. Eric, however, is so totally not intimidated it's freaky. He looks at Ben who's red-faced with anger, with crossed arms and a calm expression on his face.

"I call 'em how I see 'em, Mountie. Ever since I've known you, you've been dancing to other people's tunes. You're still doing it."

"And what is that supposed to mean," Ben says, tight-lipped, while I try and remember where the first aid  kit is and what is in it, and if Ben keeps his rifle loaded or not.

"It means, Ben, that you've became a Mountie to keep your daddy happy, you stayed in Chicago to keep your lover happy, and now you're going to run back to Canada to keep a dead man happy."

"This has nothing to do with Don," Ben yells.

"Uh, Ben ...." I say.

"Shut up, Ray - keep out of this."

"Okay." I move back against the wall out of reach of either of them. Smart wolves stay out of alpha male fights.

"You don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about, Eric. I joined the RCMP because I wanted to. I stayed in Chicago because of the career prospects - Ray actually wanted to come to Canada then. And now, well, we've decided it's the right time to move back." Now he's got his arms crossed, glaring at Eric, who is still sitting peacefully in his chair, and hasn't moved a muscle.

"Bullshit, Ben. I thought you weren't supposed to lie. You told me you wanted to be an explorer, a guide and I know your father pushed you into the RCMP. I know you were miserable at the Depot.  And don't give me that crap about your career - since when did you ever care about that?" He had a point. Ben pulled the wool over my eyes on that. "And why are you coming back up here? Ray says it's because you aren't getting better. Well, what the hell is wrong with you? You've had months to get over this - you didn't take this long when you got shot that time. Don't you want to be free?"

Ben steps up to him and I swear he comes within a half second of smacking him in the jaw. Eric still doesn't move. "You think I like being like this, Eric? You think I like having my mind taken over by that ... that sonofabitch? You must be out of _your_ mind." He's almost growling now, and the hairs on the back of my neck are standing straight up.

"What I think, Ben, is that it's about time you realized only you need to make decisions for yourself, and you don't have to consider anyone - not Ray, not your father, not Don. Ray can look after himself - he's had to. Now, you're in a trap. The door's open. You gonna walk out, or are you too damn scared?"

Ben stares at him for at least two minutes, his jaw working but not making a sound. Finally he says, "You have no idea at all what you are talking about," he grits out. Then he picks up his coat and his Stetson and walks out of the cabin. I go to go after him, but Eric moves now and blocks my path.

"No. Leave him."

"Eric, he needs me."

"No. He doesn't. Not for this. You can do too much for someone sometimes. " He cocks his head. "Dief's gone with him. He'll be okay. Now sit and drink your coffee. You tell me what's been happening this year."

"You mean he didn't tell you?"

"Not everything. I had to guess a lot of it. Now, tell me."

He listens in silence as I describe how Ben got snatched and what happened to him while he was Don's prisoner. The only question he asks was what I was doing, so I have to tell him all that stuff too. I explain about the trial, and the shooting, and the press and Ben wanting to get away. "I was right," he says at last, getting up to boil more water. "Ben's in a trap. So are you."

"But he hates it in Chicago. I don't much care where I live - I like it up here. So what's wrong with him moving up here?"

"Nothing, except the reason for it. Ray, if Ben comes up here to escape Don, he won't. He's got the fucker up here," he taps his head. "He has to leave him behind."

"But how does he do that? Jesus, Eric - we've tried everything. I'm going crazy worrying about him. He can't sleep, he can't work. I'm afraid I'm losing him." It's too much, and I drop my head onto my hands. I feel his hand on my shoulder.

"It's not easy, Ray, and he can't do it on his own. That's why I got you to come up here. He's struggling and he doesn't know how to get loose. "

I lift my head and look at him. "But you won't let me go to him now."

"He's mad at me, mad at you probably. He needs to work off the anger. I don't mean you to keep away from him. How long are you up here?"

"A month. Is that long enough?"

"It might be. Look - I don't know much more about this than you do, but I can see things without being involved in it like you two are. I just think it's about time you both looked at everything you do and say and if it's not coming from in here," he points at my chest, "then you shouldn't do it. If that Don guy is still pulling the strings, then you cut them. And you keep cutting them until they're all gone."

"Sounds simple," I try and grin at him, but he's not smiling.

"It won't be. When you think you can make the decision whether to come up here or not for yourselves and not because  you're running away, then do it. Not before." He stands up. "I better go. He won't come back while I'm here."

"What do I do?" Terrific - the guy messes us all up again and now he's running out.

"You have to use your head and your heart. You got good instincts, Ray. Listen to them. Trust them."

And thank you, Nanook of the North, for these words of wisdom. He lifts his hand in farewell and then he's gone, leaving me in an empty cabin, with a missing, pissed off, screwed up lover, and no idea at all how to get us out of this hole that gets deeper, wider and more slippery every time I look.

 

* * *

I put Ben's uneaten food in the stove to keep warm, and make more coffee. I'm trying to take my cue from Eric and not worry about him, but as it gets dark, I can't help it. I light a lantern and hang it on the porch, and just a half hour later, he comes through the door still half covered in snow even though I heard him shaking everything off on the porch. Even the wolf is cold to the marrow and heads straight for the warmest spot. I can see Ben is shivering from where I'm sitting, so I pull the armchair close to the stove, guide him over to it and shove my coffee cup into his hands while I help him take his boots off. His jeans are soaked up to the thigh, so I fetch a blanket and make him peel them off. Only when he's wrapped up and warming up with the hot cup of liquid in his hands do I ask if he's okay, and just get a single word answer in a shaky voice. He's chilled bad - dumb Mountie, he knows the dangers of doing this better than anyone.  He finishes the half cup of coffee I had left in the cup, then I hand him his bowl of stew with the warm bread. He eats hungrily and by the time he's done, the color is back in his cheeks and he's stopped shivering. He looks at me when I take the bowl off him. "Aren't you going to tell me off?" he asks.

I stand with my hands on my hips. "Do I need to?"

"No. Ray - I'm sorry about before."

"You should be apologising to Eric, not me."

"Eric Nightwing knew exactly what he was doing - I don't need to apologise to him or explain," he says in a tight voice. "But I was rude to you, and talked about you as if you weren't there. That's what I'm apologising for."

"Okay." I'm not getting into this with him now. I hang his wet jeans up to dry in the bathroom and find a pair of sweats for him to change into. He's got a funny look on his face.

"I thought you'd be angry with me."

"Do you want a fight, Fraser? Because I don't. Eric's right but it doesn't make it easy on either of us."

"You think I'm just dangling on Don's hook?" he says, starting to be mad.

"Look - who am I talking to here? Don or Ben Fraser? Because the Ben Fraser I know would look at this rationally and try and solve the problem, not get his underpants in a twist over the facts." He shuts his mouth and looks away from me then. I busy myself washing up the few dirty dishes. I am _not_ going to argue with him over this.  As I'm putting away the supplies in the cupboard, Ben comes into the kitchen.

"I don't know what to do, Ray," he admits.

"That's okay, Ben. Neither do I. But there's one thing I am going to do - I'm flying back to Chicago on Friday."

"But you said..."

"I know. But Eric made it sound like things were real bad for you, but you and me both know you don't need me here. It's nice, but look - Peter Morrow has worked every Christmas since his little girl was born, and this year was supposed to be his first one off. Now he has to work because I'm not there. Ben - I owe him. You owe him. So I'm gonna go back and work the holidays like I should be. I'm a cop. That's what I should be doing."

He stares at me and then nods. "You make me feel ashamed of myself."

I put my hands on either side of his face. "That's not why I'm doing this, Ben. Eric said I should listen to my instincts, to my heart.  I don't know what your instincts are telling you to do - only you know that. You do what you have to do - stay, come back, whatever. I can survive without you in Chicago for however long it takes - I don't like it much, but it's not the worst thing I've been through." I finish up with the stores, and then I take him into a hug. "Come in and stay warm."

We cuddle in front of the fire, with Dief taking pride of place on the rug. I wrap us both up in the blanket Ben had around himself earlier and rest my head on his shoulder. He pats my head with one hand, holds my hand in the other. "He was right about one thing."

"Just the one?" I say softly, not wanting to start a fight but knowing Eric made a lot of sense.

"More than one, I suppose. I never wanted to be a Mountie."

"Could've fooled me, Ben."

"It doesn't mean I'm not happy to be one _now._ But he was right - I wanted to be a guide, like Quinn. I wanted to work with the natural environment. I planned to study ecology or biology. I wanted to go to University."

"So why didn't you?"

He sighs. "Dad. Eric was right. Dad put pressure on me to join the RCMP. I hated it - the depot was such a shock, and then being told what to do all the time. I was used to making my own decisions about things."

"You still do," I tease.

"I used to," he says seriously. "I got used to it - I grew up, I suppose. And I don't mind taking orders ...."

"Except when you don't respect your boss, is that it?"

"Hmmm." I know him better than to expect him to diss that idiot Greig, but me and him both know that Greig is a waste of oxygen, and what Ben is doing with himself now is a complete waste of a good cop.

"Ben - did you really decide to stay in Chicago for me? That's not what you said at the time. You know I wanted to move up here."

"It wasn't entirely to do with you - I did hope that the promotion would lead to more active police work, not less. But I have to confess I had reservations about whether you would really cope with life up here."

"You didn't trust me," I say flatly, trying not to sound mad.

"Can you forgive me? I made a mistake then and it cost us dearly. I lost sight of the important things."

"It's not too late. We can come up here still, if it's what you want. Hell - you can still study if you want, lots of people do. You could become a forest ranger, or a scientist. Ben - you're smart enough to do whatever you want."

"So are you, Ray. Don't you ever regret dropping out of college?"

"I didn't at the time, but yeah - hanging out with you can give a guy an inferiority complex."

"Ray...," he says, ticking me off for being negative.

"I'm teasing, dummy. I guess I'd like to get that degree some time. Studying biology sounds kinda cool, don't know if I can remember all the facts like I'd have to."

"You have an extremely good memory, Ray. I've always been impressed by your ability to recall things."

Wow. Ben Fraser praising my mind. "So, what are you saying? That we go back to school together?"

"If you like." He's smiling, and I'm so happy to see it. "What do you say to the idea that we return to Chicago and we make some enquiries about careers and options. Save some money and then I can apply for a transfer back North at a time of our choosing."

"Take our time - not run up here in a panic, you mean?"

"Yes. I too have spent too long away from my duties, and I need to resume a normal existence. I'll come home with you on Friday."

"Christmas in Chicago again. Mom and Dad are flying to Arizona. We'll be on our own, and I'll be working," I warn him.

"I can't see why I can't work with you - I _am_ the liaison officer after all."

Not the most romantic way to spend the holidays, but it sure takes the sting out of it. It'll do Ben good to get the bit between his teeth again.  "So you think you've spent enough time up here thinking?"

"Too much time. And much as I love being here with you, our lives have been on hold for long enough."

"And Don?"

His arms tighten around me. There is still a problem which we can't ignore. "I think you're right - I need to see the psychologist again.  I have to treat this like any other injury. If I don't, then I have to accept he has changed who I am, and I simply won't accept that. I do want to be free of him, and the whole thing. Eric was right about that too."

"Sounds to me like old Eric was right about a lot of things. You sure you don't want to apologise to him?"

"I think he would think it was unnecessary, Ray. He'll just add it to the other debts I owe him."

If we fly back Friday, we've still got five days to ourselves, and I don't see why we shouldn't enjoy them, starting now, but there's something else I need to say. "Ben - you know I still dream about Stella and being married to her, but it doesn't mean I don't want to be with you. He put a lot of work into trying to make you think he was your buddy. You know he wasn't, so don't sweat it. But I don't want you spending your life hating the bastard either - that's not you.  You let things go."

"Yes. You're right. I might need time to let that go. It took me a long time to stop hating Gerrard."

"But you did, right? He's in prison, out of circulation. Not your problem. Same as Don."

"As you say. Hate is a singularly useless emotion."

"No, it's good if you gotta catch some guy, but it's over.  Look - if you dream about Don, you wake up and make love to me. That'll remind you who's who and what's what."

"Do I sense an ulterior motive here, Raymond Kowlaski?" He turns my head so he can kiss it, and there's a big grin on his face.

"Me? Nah - just trying to do some home therapy."

He doesn't say anything but he gives me a look that says "Suuure." I don't care. Having sex with me is good for both of us, and I'm not going to get tired of it any time soon. I'm happy to sacrifice my body for his peace of mind - what a way to go.

"Ray?" he murmurs.

"Yeah?"

"I think I might need some preventative therapy."

I figure this out - "We make love, you don't get bad dreams?"

"Worked last night, didn't it?"

"Hey, I'll try anything."

"And that's the thing I like most about you. Would you care to accompany me to our big comfortable bed?"

"I could be persuaded." I got a better idea. "Wait there." He looks at me puzzled but I think this will be good  - a change is as good as a rest, right? I fetch the things I need from the bedroom and dive into the bathroom, catching sight of his still puzzled, now slightly pissed off face. Good, be irritated, Ben. I strip off, wash and prepare myself. We've never done it this way - he always wants to be the one to put his fingers in me, but man, I was doing it for a long time before I met him, I know how to. I shiver, knowing what's coming. Oh yeah.

I saunter out into the living room, and his eyes grow huge seeing me naked in the lamplight. I figure I either just hit Mountie fantasy number 27 or I'm about to become one. He reaches for me as I kneel in front of him. I take his head and kiss him long and hard. I'm in charge of this ride tonight. Need to get the other people, good and bad, out of our heads. "Sit up," I order up. He kneels up and I shove the sweats down to his knees. He starts to unbutton his  long johns but I push his hands away. "Uh uh. Mine." He grins at me. I don't pull this alpha shit often but with all the testosterone sloshing around today I figure I'm entitled. I move back a little so I can bend down. He's a pretty funny picture with his shirt and sweater hanging over the tent in those stupid long johns, and his legs trapped by the sweats. "Can you ...?" I point at them. He strips them off and resumes the position. Better. I lean down and carefully unbutton things, hearing him start to breathe hard. He's ready for me,  I suck him in without warning, and I feel him jerk. Don't want him to come just yet, but I love the taste of him and the feel of his velvety dick under my tongue.

Now he's moaning and I'm hard too. I pull my mouth away and he actually whimpers. I find the condom and roll it on him - I can feel him watching me, puzzled again, but if I see him, I'll come, I know. I slick the lube on, giving everything a little twist just to keep it interesting, and he jumps again. Then I move, kneel up so I'm sitting over his lap. Now I look at him, and he's worked it out. Hope I can do this. I hold his dick and lower myself onto him in one slow, even movement until we both groan. He's buried to the hilt in me, no stretching, just in, and _God,_ that feels good. I wrap my arms around him and bend so I can kiss him, moving my tongue in and out of his hot mouth in rhythm with the slow rocking I'm setting up. He can't thrust like this, but that's okay. I want this to last. He moans under my mouth. His hands are moving up and down my spine almost like a masseur's. My dick's rubbing against the flannel and wool of his clothes - what I want is skin. I keep his mouth trapped but move back a little so I can unbutton his long johns over his stomach, and then I can slide over his body under the cover of the shirts and the sweaters which smell like smoke and him and I wish they could bottle that. We can keep this up for a while - it's intense but slow. I want to die like this, with his dick in me and my tongue in him and my senses full of the sight and sound and scent of him. But then I feel like I'm falling. "Wha'?"

"Relax, Ray," he says gently. He's moving up, tilting me back, holding me so I can't fall, lowering me onto the floor and how _does_ he do that shit? Now my legs are wrapped around his waist, I'm lying on the rug and he can really push now. Alpha Fraser wouldn't stay down, should've figured, not that I'm really complaining. He thrusts into me, hard but careful, and his hand strokes me in time, oh God, yeah, go for it. I was a lot closer than I thought but he beats me to it by seconds, coming so hard he has to close his eyes, throwing his head back like Dief on the howl but not making a sound, and never losing the rthythm on my dick. He squeezes it one more time and I come, making a lot more noise than he did. He holds me by my hips, waiting for the aftershocks to die off and for me to look at him. "Thank you, Ray," he says softly. "That was ... very nice."

I stare at him. "Nice? Nice? Way to give a guy a complex, Ben."

He grins at me. "Nice is good, Ray. Nice is something I want to do again."

"Oh." He takes off his sweater and his shirt, still buried in me, and uses his shirt to wipe me off. A little sloppy, I think, but I'm not complaining. He lifts me up carefully and holds me against his chest as I sit in his lap again.

"You keep surprising me, you know that, Ray? Life is never boring with you."

"Funny, that's what I always think about you."

He kisses me again. " _Now_ can I take you to our big comfortable bed?"

"Actually - I'm hungry," I say and he laughs. It's six o'clock, dammit, and he might have had lunch at three, but it was hours ago for me. We clean up, shove clothes back on ourselves and he feeds me smoked venison sandwiches and some of the cake I was saving for Christmas but which we won't need since we're going back.

That's how we spend the next few days - eating and fucking and talking. Snowball fights, games with Dief. Fun. Actual, lighthearted, no cares in the world fun. And he looks better for it. He says he hasn't had a single dream about Don, or even a serious nightmare, and although I'm not stupid enough to think sex is the answer to everything, it seems to be helping. We make love more in five days than we did in a month before, and if it works, good.

Eric picks us up in his big truck on Friday. Things are a little uncomfortable between Ben and him until Ben puts out his hand and Eric shakes it. "Thank you, Eric." That's all he says. Eric looks at him solemnly but I can see he's pleased.

"You listened to your hearts." The only comment he makes.

 

* * *

Chicago is total chaos. A flu epidemic and an ice storm have turned the 2-7 into a ghost town and the city into a zoo. Since the consulate is quiet and Greig's still feeling guilty because he didn't insist Ben got therapy after Don took him hostage (and why does he feel guilty? Because I damn well make sure he does, that's why) he lets Ben liaise his heart out. Welsh is pathetically grateful for me coming back and welcomes Ben like the prodigal son. There's no time to bask, we have to work damn hard. Pete gets his Christmas with his little girl, but it's a close thing with so many people off sick. I have to strong arm him _and_ Welsh but in the end, Pete goes off. Ben and me spend Christmas Day chasing a gang that specialise in crashing society parties, holding the guests at gun point and ripping off the jewellery. We track them to a fancy house right in the middle of the area they've been targeting - Ben's worked out that there must be an inside connection, and sure enough, one of the perps is the son of one of the first victims. We have a busy time chasing them and Ben, naturally ends up flying through a second story window - what else - and lands on our main suspect. I cuff the kid and haul my lunatic partner up. "Fraser - there's _always_ the stairs.  He grins at me. "What?"

"Nothing. I just never thought I'd hear you say that again." He's as happy as a clam being a real cop again, and if I get my way, Greig's corporal is going to spending a lot more time doing this and a lot less shuffling P2456XYZ forms in triplicate reporting lost salmon harnesses around his shiny desk.

Pete's back on duty the day after Christmas, but he invites us over for supper. To everyone's relief the mini crime wave and the weather have let up for a while, so we can relax with a clear conscience. Kate, Pete's little girl stays up long enough to wish us good night but is then sent to bed, so it's just me, Ben, Pete and his wife Madeleine tucking into the leftovers and swapping stories. Ben unbends enough to have half a glass of wine with the meal. We sit around the fireplace, talking, and Pete gets out of me the idea of us maybe moving up North, maybe Ben studying. He nods in approval. "You have to keep growing, learning, Ray. That's what having Kate's taught us, right, Maddy?"

She laughs. "Definitely. No room to sit still with a four year old."

"See, we're all living longer. You can't stay in the one place, doing the one thing the whole time. It's a trap."

I look at Ben and I know what he's thinking. He's got a peaceful smile on his face. Maybe, just maybe, when this year is over, the new one will be for us and no one else. I think we've made a good start.


End file.
